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knew the Emperor to stay quiet for long.
    â€œTell me about the Emperor,” he asked. “Does he live in a huge palace?”
    â€œI need to poo,” Ping said suddenly, disappearing into the bushes for the twenty-sixth time that day. It was an excuse for him to think. Little Bear’s questions were proving more and more difficult to answer.
    â€œWell?!” shouted Little Bear, while Ping sat contemplating behind a bush. “Does he live in a huge palace?”
    â€œIt’s hard to say,” Ping called back. “It’s not exactly huge, but it’s not exactly small.”
    â€œWhat exactly is it, then?” cried Little Bear.
    Ping sighed. It was going to be a long day unless he could drag something spectacular from his imagination.
    â€œGive me a minute,” he said, “and I’ll tell you.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    F or the next hour Ping and Little Bear wandered downriver, climbing over rocks and wading through the shallows. When the water was too deep, Ping gave Little Bear a piggyback, which made the tiny cub squeal with delight. He was full of questions, of course, and didn’t stop talking, and Ping eventually decided that it would be simpler just to tell Little Bear what he wanted to hear. After all, he was taking him home and would probably never see him again. And what was the alternative? If Ping was to tell Little Bear that all he really did was eat, sleep, and poo forty-seven times a day, the cub would be gravely disappointed. No. It was kinder to carry on lying. So Ping talked about the fitness training that went into being a bodyguard, and the ceremony at the palace when he was given the job by the Emperor. He talked about learning how to write with invisible ink, how to eavesdrop on bandits using nothing but a seashell, how to make a walkie-talkie out of a bamboo pole, and how to drive a Jeep.
    â€œIncredible!” gasped Little Bear. “But you still haven’t told me about the palace. What’s it like living there?”
    â€œWell, there’s lots of feasting, obviously,” lied Ping, “and people dancing in dragon costumes and drinking loads of tea. They like their tea at the palace. That’s why the Emperor keeps beavers in the garden, because beavers make the best tea.”
    â€œAnd I bet they’re really good at chopping firewood as well,” said Little Bear. “Are the clothes beautiful?”
    â€œI’ve never seen a beaver wearing clothes,” said Ping.
    â€œNot the beavers’ clothes,” said Little Bear. “The courtiers’ clothes.”
    â€œBeautiful,” Ping declared. “There is gold and silver thread everywhere, and not a wooden button in sight, because they are all made from rubies or diamonds. And everyone’s wearing bracelets and necklaces and trinkets of all shapes and colors. But the main thing is that around the court you have to look neat.”
    â€œOf course you do,” nodded the cub. “The Emperor doesn’t want to talk to someone who looks like a scarecrow.”
    â€œOr someone who’s got black currant juice on his chin,” agreed Ping. “And of course when you are sitting at the table you must never burp. That’s absolutely forbidden. The Emperor can cut off your head for burping. As for bottom-burping… that’s even worse.”
    â€œWhat does he cut off if you bottom-burp?” asked the wide-eyed cub.
    â€œYour bottom,” said Ping, “so you can never do it again. And here’s a strange one—when you go to the bathroom you’re not allowed to go in the forest, you have to sit indoors on a wooden seat with a hole in the middle.”
    Little Bear wrinkled up his nose.
    â€œThat sounds dirty,” he said.
    â€œIt’s not pretty,” said Ping. “Unlike the bedrooms.”
    â€œThey’re pretty, are they?” asked Little Bear.
    â€œAnd comfortable,” added Ping.
    â€œWell, they